


Betrayal

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Betrayal, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/No Comfort, Gen, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt Sam Wilson, Mental Health Issues, No Plot/Plotless, Not Happy, POV Sam Wilson, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sam Blames Himself, Sam Needs A Hug, Sam Wilson Angst, Sam Wilson Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, worst case scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:27:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8363182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: betray (v.)to disappoint the hopes or expectations of; be disloyal to:to betray one's friends.to reveal or disclose in violation of confidence:to betray a secret.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, this is sad.
> 
> I don't usually write hopeless things (there's enough of that in life), but I fuckin _constantly_ think about Sam and Tony's relationship shift [in this scene](http://marvellingoverlife.tumblr.com/post/151999796268/throwback-to-the-time-when-sam-wilson-knew-tony). I look at this fic as taking place in a universe where their recoveries are slow and painful and often setback-riddled.
> 
> Anyway, I wrote this at 3am on my phone like a month ago.

Sam had never felt so betrayed in all his fucking life. 

Really? He had to blow off Bucky's _entire arm_? At the cost of the only mission that mattered? Over the actions of a tortured, brainwashed superassassin who was as much the victim in the scenario as the Starks had been? _Which he had less than zero control over?_ Really, Tony?

They had both stepped into the same circle of promise that Tony's being there with Steve and Bucky was to be purely supportive. _As a friend._ Tony had given that sign of goodwill by knocking out the audio feed to their cells, and it seemed like enough. There was conviction in his eyes — Sam had looked right deep into them. 

He was no fool. His judge of character had always been instinctively dead-on, almost to a fault. And his gut had said, _Tony means well. He's a good friend. He will help Steve. He’ll watch Barnes’ back. No one will have to die, if Tony is there, at least._ And he had believed it. 

With everything in him. 

Which was probably why Sam couldn't look Steve in the eye anymore, couldn't muster the decency to ask Bucky how his PT with the new arm was going.

Knowing that Zemo had planned it that way all along — that the other Winter Soldiers had been dead long before Steve and Bucky had even shown up — and that he had been _counting_ on Tony's reaction — knotted Sam's stomach a hundred times over. He _hated_ that if he hadn't been so damned worried about Steve — about Steve _and_ Bucky — none of that would have happened. 

The Winter Soldiers would've remained dead. There never would've been a fight. Steve would've captured Zemo, put the bastard on trial for what he'd done to Bucky and countless others, innocent lives ended for nothing. T'Challa wouldn't have had to single-handedly save the goddamned day. And he wouldn't have to risk war with the United States of America by harboring three international fugitives _in his home_. 

There was just so much that wouldn't have happened; the grief they were all going to battle the rest of their lives now, no matter what, included. 

But he just couldn't resist the chance to give Tony Stark the benefit of the doubt. Sam's gut had never steered him wrong. It trusted Tony. Not without reservation, but nevertheless. He was supposed to keep Steve and Bucky _safe_. 

What had he done instead?

_Implode._

Sam knew about Tony's delicate mental health. They were all hurting in different ways, and Tony had had more than his fair share of scars to bear. Rhodey would talk to Sam about it a lot because they cared so much for the man. 

Because they worried. 

Because Tony had a tendency to _not_ deal with anything that even approached _a moment of import_. Any single significant event that had fundamentally changed his life was left staunchly ignored at every turn. Getting him to acknowledge any in the first place was a nightmare on its own. 

That didn't mean he was hopeless. He blipped in and out of spurts of progress, inconsistent though his pattern may have been. Tony worked hard, stressed out, stretched himself thin. Trauma worked at different paces each day. And he did try, for the most part. 

But for him to have taken _so personal_ an obvious ploy like that? There was no way he was anywhere near okay. 

And Sam's heart ached for Tony — it really did — but, half the time, he couldn't see past the red that swarmed his vision when he thought about it. 

Inevitably, the sadness always followed. The guilt, the blame, the heavy stitching of _burden_ and _responsibility_ interwoven between them, all covered in blue. 

Sometimes, he was so weighted with it, he couldn't leave the bed for days. 

Steve often knocked on the door softly, speaking through the seal offers of comfort, taking any and all requests, _Sam, please, just say you're okay_ ; Bucky would just sit outside the door, booted feet splayed across the floor — Sam could picture it, so well, just like that, in his mind — for as long as it took to clean and CLP all his weapons, mutter, _Whenever you're ready_ , and leave. 

But on those days when all Sam could do to keep from shaking apart with remorse and shame was just _be there_ , that was how it had to be. 

Eventually, it would ebb, give room for the anger to resurface, but it would be tamer in the wake of such soul-sucking despair. It was during this time that Sam found it best to approach T'Challa. 

He felt as much like himself now as he figured he'd ever get the chance to feel again. 

They bantered, a little, gently, for a while before Sam's genuine gratitude broke forth in a shudder. He'd grabbed T'Challa by the shoulders and wrapped his arms around them and thanked him, as fiercely as he could, too grateful for words. 

_Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for being so perceptive. Thank you for keeping us safe. Thank you for forgiving us. Thank you for stopping Zemo from killing himself. Thank you for helping Bucky. Thank you for trusting us. Thank you for being a true friend. Thank you, thank you, thank you._

That, and so much more. 

Maybe the first time, T'Challa had started initially, but his arms always rose to return the embrace for as long as Sam needed it, always with a small, understanding smile and sweet, selfless eyes. 

Then, the anger would take over again, which led to fights with Steve — who was always trying to make amends with Tony every time they contacted each other to negotiate _whatever_ — because how could Steve forgive Tony so quickly?

Tony had betrayed them all. And it sucked — it hurt so bad; Sam ached with the pain of wanting to be someone Tony could count on — but he was too much of a coward to admit just yet that they had all betrayed Tony, too. 

It was all Sam’s fault.

**Author's Note:**

> #TeamGetTonyStarkHelp so we can actually focus on his character instead of using his mental illness as plot devices, MCU.


End file.
